


before the beginning

by madameofmusic



Series: Tumblr Fic [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-26 23:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/pseuds/madameofmusic
Summary: Takes place 1.5 years before "I've Been Loving You"





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a fill for an ask meme on tumblr, given to me by the lovely [Linnea](http://bookwyrmling.tumblr.com/), of whom you should all follow. Takes place before [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7322989).

_1.5-ish years before the earliest scene_

“Kent.” Kent turns, and comes face-to-face with Jack, and who he presumes to be Bitty. They’re holding hands, and it _hurts_. 

“Zi-Ja-” Kent stops, bites the inside of his lip, and then lifts a hand. “Hey.” 

Jack gives him an odd look but smiles anyway. “Hey. This is Bitty.” Jack says Bitty like the man’s very name is the answer to every question he’s ever had, lovesick expression coating his face and making ice-blue eyes look like the center of the sun with the warmth they’re putting off. 

It makes Kent _sick_. “Hi,” he grits out, smothering a grimace and settling on a cool look. One that Bitty matches with a raised eyebrow and a slight, _very slight_ , roll of his eyes. “I’m Kent.” 

“I know.” Bitty sounds as disinterested in this conversation as Kent feels. “So. Dinner?” He directs the question at Jack, impassive expression melting away to something that matches Jack’s own starry-eyed gaze.

“Yeah. I got… reservations. At a restaurant.” Kent says, nausea ramping up worse and worse every second he looks at Jack, and realises how happy he looks, and how Jack never looked like that when they were together. 

Jack looks away from Bitty, and flashes Kent another small smile. “Lead the way.” 

 

The entire thing is an awkward affair, conversation (if it could even be considered that) stilted. By the end of the night, Kent knew Bitty had heard everything that went down in the Q, and apparently held it against him. The therapist Kent had seen briefly at the recommendation of his GM, because of his “lashing out”, would have said it wasn’t his fault, and that Jack was part of everything that had gone wrong just as much as he was. 

It’s only on the good days he can convince himself of that. 

Jack pays for the meal, even though Kent argues, tries to convince him that it’s _his_  town, so _he_  should pay. Jack won’t hear of it, placing a shiny AmEx on the table and probably tipping generously. 

They get caught outside by a few avid hockey fans and have to sign autographs and take pictures for almost half an hour. Every time this happens in Vegas, or New York, or Los Angeles, more people come up for their selfies then Kent thinks actually watch hockey. His fame, their fame, attracts people in big cities. For a brief moment, he’s jealous Jack lives in such a small town compared to Vegas’ 600 thousand, even though he knows, intuitively, that it’s _not_  that small. 

Finally, the stragglers wander away, and they’re alone again. Kent starts to speak and then is interrupted by a large, exaggerated yawn from Bitty. “Well, I’m beat. I think we should head back to the hotel, yeah?” Bitty says, flashing Jack a look Kent knows all too well, one that doesn’t speak for much sleep at all. 

Jack tinges pink and nods. “Of course.” He turns to Kenny, considers for a second, and then holds out a hand. “It was nice seeing you again, Kent. We’ll have to hang out next time you’re in town.” 

Kent takes Jack’s hand robotically, and nods. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He says, and then nods at the both before turning tail and walking away. 

He takes the long way back to his apartment, considers stopping at a bar on his way. He has practice in the morning, though, and he hasn’t fed Kit yet, and if he gets drunk, Swoops will _know_  something is wrong. He doesn’t drink unless something’s gone wrong, like they’ve lost a game, or the love of his life invited him to dinner with someone he looks at like he hangs the moon. 

Kent takes the long way back, and tries to settle the panic building in his chest, the urge to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey, and breathes. He breathes, and it feels like it’s seven years ago, and he’s finding Jack on the floor of a hotel bathroom, barely breathing. Kent breathes, and the world isn’t okay. 

Kent breathes, and tries to make it okay anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://whiskeytangofrogman.tumblr.com/)


End file.
